“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not comfortable talking to a complete stranger about my mess.”

“Sometimes it’s best to talk to a complete stranger,” The man said, then craned his neck down, and pointed to his badge with his chin.

“Doctor Jenkins,” Rory mumbled, “you’re the prison psychiatrist.”

Jenkins smiled. “That’s me. My car’s over there. I can give you a ride if you want?”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t have said so unless I meant it. Come on.”

Rory nodded, then followed Jenkins to his car. He placed his files and folders on the backseat, then got into the front. Rory hesitated for a moment, then climbed into the passenger seat.

“So, you know who I am … who are you?”

Rory flexed his aching hands. “Rory Price—No, that’s not right. Rory Matterson.”

“You changed names pretty quick just then…”

“I was in the prison.”

Jenkins dropped his gaze to Rory’s knuckles, then glanced back up. “Have you escaped?”

“They’ve let me go. I was undercover.”

“I see, and now you’re feeling lost, unsure what to do next?”

Rory bobbed his head. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t feel like anything, I’m numb, and I have no idea how to make myself feel again.”

Jenkins whistled. “Well, that’s more than one session right there.”

Rory laughed at his lap. “Tell me about it…”

“Okay, I will. I don’t know what happened inside, but you can’t be around people and not start to care, start to identify, to adapt. Now you’re out, you’ve lost your identity, the person you were before has gone and you don’t know how to get back to what you were.”

“So how do I do it?”

“Unless you have a time machine, you can’t.”

“Damn it.”

Jenkins chuckled, and twitched his nose. “So you can’t go back, but what did you like about yourself before you went inside?”

“I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to be a good person. A good police officer.”

“And you feel like you’re not?”

“I hurt people, and I hurt myself.” Rory frowned down at his hands. “I don’t mean physically. I wish it was all physical. Physical pain gets better, it softens, or you get used to it, and it’s not as intense, but the feeling in my chest. The loss, the guilt, the shame. I let down everyone I cared about, and now I’m on my own, and it hurts.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Rory spluttered. “You’re supposed to tell me.”

“I can’t stop it hurting. Only you can.”

“How?”

“Do you still want to do the right thing? Do you still want to be a good person?”

“Yeah, of course, but I don’t see how I can.”